Verge
by Remy-Gilmore
Summary: Voldemort's return to power has left everyone on edge. There is no doubt that the wizarding world is on the verge of war. Are Ron and Hermione on the verge of something else, as well?


**A/N**: No one can give me all of the credit for this story. SuperiorityComplex88 wrote this with me! And of course, all characters and anything else that is clearly not mine belongs to J.K. Rowling!

_****_

_**Verge**_

The rain that was pouring outside of Grimmauld Place added to the atmosphere inside the house. Everything was eerie, which was very strange due to the fact that there were at least more than two dozen people scattered throughout the place. This did not even include the swarms of individuals filing into and out of the house every minute.

No one even attempted to act cheerily. That had stopped days ago. By now, the only words that were spoken were those that were necessary; and those were very grave indeed. Thoughts of Voldemort (or You-Know-Who, for those who still refused to speak his name) and the impending battle were the only things swirling in people's heads.

In one upstairs room, hundreds of parchments were strewn across tables, chairs, and the two beds that filled the room. Even the floor was littered with pieces of parchment. The only places that were free were those occupied by four persons. Harry Potter sat in a chair near the blazing fire, staring into the flames. Ginny Weasley was in a nearby chair, biting her lip and looking worriedly at him. Ron Weasley sat on the bed that sat nearest the door, eyes glazed as he stared at a piece of parchment in front of him. Hermione Granger, the only one working, was roughly scratching something out on one of the papers next to her.

No one was saying a word. The scratching quill that Hermione was using was the only noise in the entire room. Everyone was too deep in thought to even think of speaking to each other. There was uncertainty, fear, and dread in all of their eyes.

"Hermione," Ron looked at his bushy-haired friend, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. "Take a break."

Hermione, who's head had been bent over the work surrounding her, only began working more fervently. Her head bent even lower over the parchment and her quill's scratching became louder.

She answered, "I can't. There's just too much to do before…"

She didn't finish her sentence, but there was no doubt as to what she was going to say. Immediately, Harry sunk even lower into his chair and Ginny bit her lip harder. Ron did not give up, however.

"Hermione, you need a break. What do you have to do, anyway?'

"I need to look over everything, just to make sure that I have the right measurements. If I miscalculated anything—anything at all—"

"But you didn't," Ron argued. "You couldn't have. And even if you did, you would have caught it by now. You've looked over everything at least a dozen times."

"But what if that's not enough!" Hermione said shrilly. Her eyes were no longer on the rows of numbers in front of her, but on Ron. "Everything depends on this, Ron! Everything depends on…on…"

She stopped again. And again, everyone knew what she was about to say. This time, however, Harry stood abruptly.

"On me surviving until the end," Harry finished. His hands were clenched tightly and his voice sounded very tense. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it. Instead, he rushed out of the room, Ginny right behind him.

The two remaining in the room were quiet once more. Hermione was no longer working, though. But even though she had stopped, Ron wasn't in the mood for feeling smug. The two of them sat there in silence and after awhile, the silence became almost unbearable.

As Hermione stared at the now motionless quill in front of her, she spoke softly. "We should really just leave him alone for a while, I suppose." She felt rather than saw Ron's nod of affirmation.

"Yeah, I guess," he said, his tone and volume matching hers. "But he's been keeping to himself so much. He won't talk to anyone."

Hermione smiled grimly and glanced up at him. "Except Ginny."

Ron gave a feeble roll of his eyes. "Except Ginny," he repeated in a whisper. For some reason, their voices seemed to want to keep lowering themselves. He proceeded to lie down sideways on the bed, facing Hermione. "I would go as far to say that she's stalking him, you know."

Shaking her head, Hermione propped her elbows on the table before her. "She's not. She's worried, like we all are."

Ron gave her a bit of a funny look. "Obviously a little more so. We're not the ones stalking him, are we?"

Hermione smiled weakly. "No."

Ron stared at her as she fidgeted with a corner of the parchment. It was truly a sign of how helpless everyone felt that she hadn't bothered arguing with him any longer. Harry, Ron knew, was surely on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Ginny hadn't known what to do; she and Harry had become better friends since the end of the past school year, but Harry's constant silences unnerved everyone, especially the youngest Weasley.

Now, as he gazed at his other friend, Ron knew that Hermione was tired. He knew that she was one to work all the time, but the tasks she had immersed herself in lately had been far more demanding than anything she'd ever done at Hogwarts. The tasks, however, were of far more importance than their previous class work, as she had time and again pointed out.

Hermione's voice shattered his thoughts. "What's going to happen?"

He glanced at her curiously.

She glanced down at the mess surrounding them, and then back up at him. "I mean, what do _you_ think is going to happen?"

Pursing his lips, he allowed himself a weary sigh. "I think... I think it's all going to work out."

Hermione gave him a dark look. "You're saying that just because you like the sound of it, you know."

"No, I'm serious, actually," Ron countered, sounding a bit surprised at himself. "Harry's set to go into training in a few weeks, isn't he? And – and what about the DA? Look at all the stuff he's taught us this past year."

"True," Hermione said simply.

Ron sat up on the bed. "Speaking of which, look at this stuff you're doing now. These spells..." He bent down and picked up a piece of parchment that listed some choice jinxes. "Hermione, these are great finds. You could nail so many Death Eaters with these."

Hermione shook her head again, looking downward. "I don't even know if I can do them yet, Ron."

Scoffing quietly, Ron rolled his eyes more prominently this time. "We all know you can do them, Hermione," he mocked in a whisper.

A blush rose in her cheeks.

"See? Even _you_ know that," Ron stated.

Hermione kept her eyes on the parchment. "I suppose. But... but I'm just worried that Voldemort—"

Ron twitched.

"—has some trick up his sleeve that no one knows about."

After smothering the rising feeling of unease in his stomach upon hearing "the name", Ron rose and joined her at the table in a chair opposite hers. "I don't think so. The Order would have found something about it by now. And, really... even if he does have something planned, we can beat it. Harry can beat it."

Hermione's expression immediately dropped again, and she repeated herself. "I suppose."

The silence in the room returned to their attention. Hermione stared at her hands now. Ron stared at them, too. After ten tense seconds, he spoke.

"He's come this far, hasn't he?" Ron asked quietly. "He's not going to give up. He doesn't work that way. He's going to meet You-Know-Who head on, and he's going to give him hell." He was surprised to see Hermione's lips twitch at this. "He'll be fine. And so will we."

Hermione smiled after a beat, and Ron knew that she hadn't dared miss the double-meaning in his last statement.

"Let's hope so," she concluded.

She bowed her head again, letting her hair fall into her face. Ron knew that this was her attempt at hiding the doubt that was still written on her face. Ron sighed, knowing that it would be impossible to ease her worry, but he wanted to try.

"You need to stop worrying about him, Hermione," Ron whispered. He knew how ironic this sounded coming from him, since he worried about Harry just as much as she did. He tried to distract her from that fact by saying, "I think Ginny is worrying enough for everyone in the house."

Hermione didn't answer him. Ron opened his mouth again, but was interrupted by Hermione's voice.

"It's not him that I'm worried about."

She had spoken so quietly that he almost didn't hear her. When he finally realized what she had said, he frowned.

"I'm scared for myself," Hermione was even quieter, if that was possible. It was almost as if she didn't want to hear herself say those words. "How selfish is that? Harry is the one who has to face _him_, and I'm worried about myself. But I can't help it! All I can think about is the future—the one that I'll never have if something happens to me."

Ron couldn't speak. He didn't want to. He didn't want to listen to what she was saying, either, but she continued.

"It would have been wonderful to be a healer. Or maybe someone who creates spells. Maybe I would have worked with magical creatures. That would have been brilliant, Ron," Hermione now had a faraway look in her eyes. She had stopped speaking, but she soon began once more. "It doesn't matter much, really. I was just looking forward to working in the wizarding world. It would have been such an amazing experience. I'm positive that working in the wizarding world would have been much different than working in the Muggle world…"

Ron had finally found his voice, and he yelled, "Stop talking as if it's never going to happen!"

Startled, Hermione looked at him. He was now glaring at her. He was still sitting in front of her, ramrod straight.

Ron knew that he shouldn't get so angry, but it was uncontrollable. The way that Hermione had been speaking, as is she were never going to do the things that she wanted to, had upset him. He hated to think of Hermione not being able to do the things that she wanted. He hated even more the reason that she might not be able to.

"Ron…" Hermione whispered. She leaned over the table, taking his large hand in hers. She looked at his tense face, which was now pale, and gave him a forced smile. "I…"

"Go on," Ron interrupted her.

Hermione simply stared at him, confusion etched on her face. She asked, "What?"

"Tell me more," Ron told her. "What else do you want in your future?"

This time, Hermione's smile was genuine. She looked down at the table, at Ron's hand in hers, and then looked at his face. Her smile widened, and Ron had just enough time to think how long it had been since she had smiled so broadly before she began speaking.

"I don't know, really. I've only ever thought of the job I would have." Ron snorted; that was so much like Hermione. "But, I suppose if I think hard enough I could come up with something. I mean, I've thought of the kids I would have, of course. Doesn't every little girl? I wonder if I would have a little witch like myself, or a wizard. Would my kids even be magical? Because there is always the chance that I'll marry a Muggle."

Hermione didn't notice the dark look that Ron gave her.

"But if they were magical, and they went to Hogwarts, it would be wonderful to see the excitement in their eyes when they leave for their first year. They'd send letters back that were filled with awe, amazement, and hatred towards a certain Potions Professor."

Ron smiled, knowing exactly whom she was speaking of. He said, "He certainly would be bitter by that time if he was still the Potions Professor. He's been waiting long enough to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts job."

Hermione laughed and said, "Exactly. And Snape would be even more hateful if my children were Gryffindors, wouldn't he?"

"Of course they would be," Ron nodded vigorously. "No doubt about it, since both of their parents would be Gryffindors."

Hermione gave him a strange look. Ron wondered why, until he realized what he had just said. He had no doubt that she knew exactly who he meant when he had said "both of their parents." Ron swallowed nervously, but he did not look away from Hermione's gaze.

It was Hermione who looked away in the end. Yet again, she looked at their intertwined hands. For a moment, Ron was afraid that she was going to pull away from him, but she didn't. To his surprise, Hermione began to stroke his hand with her thumb. A surge of electricity immediately shot through that hand.

While Ron was relieved that Hermione hadn't pulled away from him in disgust at his words, he was also anxious that she was now uncomfortable. She hadn't spoken to him. For some reason, Ron had the distinct impression that she was thinking of something to say that wouldn't hurt him.

Which is why he was utterly shocked when she leaned even farther over the table. Their faces—namely their lips—were mere centimeters apart now. Hermione was biting her lip; a gesture that Ron knew meant she was deciding whether or not she should do something. Ron waited for her to make her decision, trying not to become impatient. But his breathing was beginning to become spasmodic. Ron's eyes seemed to be fixed on the pair of lips in front of him, making him restless. When Hermione licked her lips nervously, his restraint broke.

Ron leaned forward to close the space between them at the same time that Hermione did. Their noses collided painfully, but neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to notice. Hermione quickly titled her head, allowing Ron to capture her lips.

Hermione was no longer stroking Ron's hand. That had stopped when he had moved it to her neck. And Hermione's hand had promptly found it's way behind Ron's shoulder. By the time the kiss had ended, her hand was in the familiar Weasley hair. They simply stared at each other after that. Hermione was half lying on the table, half standing and Ron had a boyish grin on his face. Their faces were still extremely close.

Hermione laughed, and Ron could feel the breath coming from her mouth. He wanted to kiss her again.

"We finally got it right," Hermione's voice broke through the haze that had settled over Ron.

Somehow, Ron managed to say, "We kind of had to, didn't we?"

For once, Ron could see some of the good things that were coming out of this war. Not knowing what would happen with each coming day, or if he would survive, had taught Ron to go after the things he wanted rather than wait for them. True, it had taken him this long to move beyond the "friends" stage with Hermione, but he had finally done it.

Hermione was staring at him again. Ron hoped that she was about to kiss him, but she didn't move. Neither of them did. In fact, their hands were still in each other's hair and behind the nape of each other's neck. Hermione was still in what looked like an uncomfortable position over the table.

"There's one more thing," Hermione whispered.

Ron heard her, but he was still unable to understand her very well. It didn't help that her lips were still so close to him.

"Huh?" Ron asked, not so intelligently.

"I want one more thing in my future," Hermione whispered.

Ron liked the way that her lips formed the words. Again, he only heard her speak from a distance. However, he knew that she wouldn't appreciate not being listened to, so he tried to come up with a response.

He said, "What's that?"

Her lips curled into a smile. Ron's heart began to beat faster as she said, "You."

And, to Ron's delight, she kissed him. Unfortunately, it was a quick one. He barely even felt her lips touch his. When Ron groaned, Hermione's smile just widened. She had no idea what she was doing to him. Or maybe she did, and that's why she was trying hard to keep a straight face as she spoke next.

"Now," she said, "I need to get back to work."

Ron looked at her as if she were insane. He said, "Work! But…no, Hermione! Why don't…I mean…"

Hermione raised her eyebrows and waited as he tried to spit out an answer. She couldn't help but think that, as flustered as he was now, he looked even cuter.

"Just…just one more," Ron said. Begged, really. "One more."

Hermione sighed, pretending that what he was asking of her was a hardship. "Alright. One more."

And she leaned over, determined to make this one count.


End file.
